The Hanging Tree
by ClosetDegrassiLover
Summary: Post-Waterfalls; Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be. If we met up at midnight at the hanging tree. One-Shot.


**Post-Waterfalls… I don't have much to say, except this episode really spoke to me in a way that Degrassi episodes haven't in a while. Credit for the song goes to the lovely Suzanne Collins, via **_**Mockingjay.**_

The Hanging Tree

_By ClosetDegrassiLover_

We're told when we're young, the evil villain is always slain. It doesn't necessarily matter what takes place in between, we could always be assured that the ending would be the same. Good triumphs over evil. The princess is saved.

Why is it that reality is nothing like storybooks?

_Are you, are you coming to the tree?  
Where they strung up a man they say murdered three.  
Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be, _

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.  
_

Clare looks at her reflection. It doesn't seem different. It _isn't_ different.

But it is.

Everything is there to conceal her secret. A hint of mascara, a slight swipe of blush. A smile. A smile that's tainted and full of brokenness that Clare wonders how anyone believes it. Although, she has perfected it. Perhaps her parent's divorce was a crash course in how to pretend one's fine. Everything falling together exactly as it should.

_You stupid obsessed girl. _The nagging voice in the back of her head is back and she winces, wishing it'd go away. It never does. It lingers there, just like his touch. Just like his lips. They etch all over her body as if they're tattooed on, defiling her until she's but a whisper of who she was. _Interns. _

Clare grinds her teeth together, trying to get the echoes of his last word to her out of her mind. A futile effort, but she tries nonetheless. "Clare!" Jake calls from the other side of the door. "We're going to be late for school!" She doesn't suppose it really matters if they're late or not.

There are worse things that could happen.

But she can't break her façade. Everyone's happy – so much happier than they were last semester and she can't ruin that. She can't be the person to burden everyone with her secret. She already told one person too many – at least Alli is busy enough to not pry.

The ride to school is a somber one. Clare knows Jake throws glances in her direction every once and a while. She pretends not to notice, leaning her head against the window to distract herself with the clouds. "Um…" Jake starts, tension settling in the truck as if someone poisoned it. "Clare, is everything alright with you?"

"Of course." She responds, almost too quickly. Clare falters after this slip up, making sure to radiate every ounce of warmth she possesses in the next smile. "Why do you ask?"

"I dunno," Jake awkwardly scratches the back of his head. "You've been a little distant lately. Quiet."

Clare shrugs, unsure of how to answer. She notices the truck locked and a sense of panic washes over her. She knows she overreacting, but can't help it. Just seeing that lock down makes her whole body tremble like she's suffocating, unable to find her breath. As nonchalantly as possible, she pulls up on the lock, tucking her had under her chin in a fluid movement.

"Why'd you unlock the door?" Jake asks with chuckle. He reaches over her to push it back down, saying, "You know that's dangerous. Just let me—"

"No!" Clare shouts, with a little more fervor than she intended. Jake recoils, unsure of what to do with this outburst. "I mean, I must've done it absentmindedly."

Jake eyes her, trying to see past the makeup and the neatly coiffed hair. Everything seemed the same. But different. "Um, okay." He doesn't press further, but notices she doesn't lock the door.

_Are you, are you coming to the tree?  
Where the dead man calls out for his love to flee.  
Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be,  
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._

A hand reaches around Clare's waist and she shudders, instinctively withdrawing from their grasp. "Wow, that's not the reaction you want to get from your girlfriend." Eli laughs. When Clare doesn't respond or even laugh in return, he eyes her. "Everything alright with you? You've been acting a little strange."

Clare blinks. It feels like lying. But seeing his face in front of hers, his green eyes searching and so hopeful, that desire to pull back return. Sometimes she thinks she should tell him. Oh how desperately she wanted to. It becomes like a monster on her chest, clawing and ripping to get out. Clare opens her mouth, unsure of what her decision is. "Eli, I—" She can't. Burdens shouldn't be spread. "I'm sorry, I didn't sleep well last night and am still half asleep."

Eli shakes his head, telling himself the momentary flash of anguish was just his imagination. "Is milady having trouble sleeping?" He offers his hand, slipping into his British accent he's enjoyed perfecting over the past few weeks. "I can always be of assistance, if she feels so inclined."

Clare stares at his hand. She knows she should take it. Her fingers are open. She doesn't want to, though. Having someone's skin on hers still made her dreams tremble into nightmares. But she grabs it anyway, praying he doesn't notice her wince and shiver at his touch.

He does. "Seriously, Clare. What's going on with you?"

She desperately searches for an answer, trying to sift through her assortment of lies and half-truths she could spread like the worthless being she's become. "Actually, I had a favor to ask you." She says.

"Anything."

Biting her lip, Clare says, "I have a few afternoons free and was wondering if a certain director needed any help with the props? I don't want to brag, but I _did_ win an award."

Eli smirks. "Of course, we can use all the help can get, especially from the multi-talented Clare Edwards." He hesitates. "But, um, what about your co-op? I mean, you've had some pretty late nights and always seem to be working there."

Instinctually, Clare drops his grasp. She knows she letting suspicion fester and burn by doing so, but can't seem to reclaim it. "Um," She searches for something. Anything. "The paper's pretty busy right now and they asked if they could take a breather from the co-op to focus on work."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Eli says, his eyes squeezing with concern. "I know how much working with Asher meant to you."

There it was. His name. Just hearing it made Clare nauseous and she felt a film of dirt and perversion wash over her. "Yeah, so am I hired?"

Eli notices Clare shrink away, grabbing her books a little tighter than usual. Was that a barricade of tears in her eyes? "Clare, did I say something wrong?"

"N-No!" She exclaims, caught between gestures and spilling her books to the floor. A few people turn to chuckle, but all Eli can do is stare as she quickly bends down to pick them up. When she returns eye-level, her face is red and her eyes blotchy. He opens his mouth to say something, but she cuts in, "Man, I should really stop drinking caffeinated tea before bed! Makes me so jittery when I can't sleep! See you after school then?"

Before Eli could protest, she's down the hall.

_Are you, are you coming to the tree?  
Where I told you to run so we'd both be free.  
Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be,  
if we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._

Clare's humming to herself. She rummages through the props backstage, feeling very alone. The drama team took a break to go get some snacks from the cafeteria, but she opted out. She told Eli she wanted to catch up so she could be as effective as possible for the play, but in reality she just felt like a pariah. A poison. Sucking the happiness from everyone with her dirty hands.

The locking sound plays in her ears and she closes her eyes, trying to expel it from her thoughts. So many times, she was brought back to that car. It happened when she least expected it. She could be in class or talking to a friend. At night before sleep took her or when it already did. Sometimes his hand caressed her face and sometimes his lips were on hers.

But she always felt dirty.

Eli couldn't help but feel like he had to go back to the auditorium, even though he knew he needed to cultivate relationships with his cast. He breaks away to get to the auditorium, a slow, sorrowed humming coming from the stage. He wants to call out to Clare, but she doesn't even notice he's there. Running the fabric through her fingers, Clare sings to herself, the words almost inaudible. She's not even in this world anymore.

"_Are you, are you coming to the tree?  
Wear a necklace of rope side by side with me.  
Strange things did happen here, no stranger would it be,  
if we met up at midnight in the hanging tree._"

**A/N: Kinda sad… Leave a note if you have time. So much love.**


End file.
